No Looking Back
by Miz Thang
Summary: In Seventh Year, Head Boy and Head Girl, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger, are forced to attend a ball together in their last few days at school. What results isn’t anything they’d ever expect. Edited on November 13, 2006.
1. The Mourning

**Title:** No Looking Back (I of IV)  
**Author:** Miz Thang  
**Characters/Pairing:** Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Ensemble, HG/DM, RW/PP  
**Rating:** FRM  
**Word Count:** 4510  
**Warnings:** Completely and utterly cliched. AU Year 7. Not HBP-compatible.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything but the little story's idea. Everything else belongs to who it belongs to.  
**Summary:** In Seventh Year, Head Boy and Head Girl, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger, are forced to attend a ball together in their last few days at school. What results isn't anything they'd ever expect.  
**Notes:** For the Fantastic Clichés And Why You Should Write Them Ficathon. Requirements posted at the end. Amazingly, I signed up intending to be completely and utterly serious, and what I've got is serious with a side of funny. Especially from Harry, Ron and Pansy. And not only that, but because of a massive dose of writers' block, it became a three-part fic. Written for **gleamingeyes**.

**I. The Mourning**

"I am pleased to announce that we will be holding a ball in June for our fourth years and older." Headmaster Dumbledore announced, to which many whispers passed along the four table the students occupied. It had been a long few years as time went on, this year proving to be the worst when Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger were chosen as Head Boy and Head Girl. However, Albus Dumbledore was a wise old man, and therefore knew exactly what he'd been in for by forcing those two to share a common room for a full year of school.

"A ball?" Ron asked nervously, his mind taking him back more than three years to the disaster it had been then to find a date. He wasn't the only one wearing a look of fear, however. Many of his fellow Gryffindors wore the same look. "What do we need another ball for?"

Harry's only response was to shrug and Hermione glared at the both of them in annoyance (mainly because even as Head Girl, she hadn't been informed – and, from the look on Draco Malfoy's face across the hall, neither had he).

"This ball is very special, as you will all soon find out." Dumbledore continued.

"How special could it be? Girls, dancing, punch, boring." Seamus said with a roll of his eyes.

"For this ball, you all will be assigned your partner for the night. A partner from a _different_ house." Dumbledore said, and more whispers spread like wildfire throughout the hall, only with a tinge of anger in the lowered voices, though some held disbelief that their dates would actually be chosen for them.

"Partners?" Seamus complained. "They're giving us partners? What if I get stuck with a Slytherin?"

"Loony Lovegood is worst than any Slytherin." Ron mumbled, only for Ginny to elbow him in the side. "What was that for?"

"Leave Luna alone. She's nice."

Ron decided not to reply to that, as Lavender gave a somewhat unlady like snort to Seamus' complaint. "Well, I can see why _you'd_ be worried."

"Right." Dean said, dubious. "And why would that be so great for you?"

"Well, have you seen who's in that house?" Lavender asked. The boys continued to give her blank looks and she rolled her eyes. "Blaise Zabini. Very rich, very good-looking. And, not only that, but our dear Head Boy, Draco Malfoy. Even _more_ rich, just as good-looking. Three hours with him and I'm set for life."

"Tell me we are not talking about this." Hermione said. "There is nothing infinitely great about Draco Malfoy. I should know."

"The one girl in all of the school who resists Malfoy's charms would be Hermione." Ron said as Dumbledore continued to drone on about the ball to come. He looked at his house mates. "You know what that means, Don't you?"

"…letters will be sent out to arrive tomorrow morning, revealing the name of your partner. These choices are irreversible. Magically picked by our very own sorting hat, in fact." Dumbledore said, close to finishing his speech. "So, please, don't try to exchange with others – it won't work."

Hermione sighed and decided to indulge Ron. "What does it mean?"

"He's likely your date." Ron then joined the others in filling their plates and eating their dinner. She really didn't understand why the entire lot of them had to act as if it were their last meal if they weren't going to do anything productive, such as going to library, doing research, or doing _homework_ for once (how they made it to seventh year is beyond her).

Hermione of course wasn't in the mood to eat. What if Ron was right, and she really did have Malfoy? Then, instead of the three hours of a break she'd been thinking she'd get from him, she'd be stuck with him, pretty effectively, and of course she'd do it because she was Head Girl, a role model, after all. Someone for the younger years to look up to and -

"Harry," she waited for the boy to look up from his plate. "You don't think I got Malfoy, do you?"

Harry's eyes widened like a deer caught in the headlights before he got control over his facial expressions, settling on confidence he didn't actually have, and said, "Of _course_ not, Hermione. Some other girl got him."

Hermione nodded, trying to reassure herself that the sorting hat had indeed given her a break for three hours.

-

Draco was almost terrified of who he'd get. At worst, he could get some mudblood who'd annoy him to no end. At even worst, he'd get one of those simpering idiotic girls who thought they were the one thing he needed in his life "to see the light and change his ways." What ways were they supposed to be changing, and what was wrong with his original thought process, anyway? If they didn't like it, they could find some other rich, _nice_ boy to bother.

It almost made him wish he'd get Granger. She was Head Girl, not to mention his unwanted roommate, and he already spent much more time than he ever wanted to with her anyway. Besides, he already knew how much she could grate on his nerves in the span of twenty-four hours, so how much could one-eighth of that really matter?

Except it did. A lot.

"Malfoy." She greeted when he entered their common room. As usual, her nose was buried in a book and Draco idly wondered if there was anything else she could be doing – maybe she could get into an adventure with Potter and the Weasel, undoubtedly connected to Voldemort…and die. That way, maybe, just maybe, he could get a full eight hours of sleep without hearing a page turn in her room – or forbid she drop one of her heavy tomes in the middle of the night (guaranteed to spark many arguments between the two at two o'clock in the morning).

"Granger." He responded, and she rolled her eyes. He decided that, as he wanted to sleep soundly before his life was ruined tomorrow morning, that he'd let it go (because he knew Granger would drop a book later on, just to anger him).

…like he really had that much self control.

"Light reading, Granger?" he asked, eyeing the infinitely large book she had tucked into her lap. He wondered, if she fell asleep with it, if it would crush her and then – if that stupid hat had decided they would make perfect dates – he could go alone. Blissfully.

She eyed him suspiciously, before settling on, "Go bother someone else, Malfoy. I'm busy."

"Only if you say so." Draco replied sarcastically, a well-patented sneer on his face, which Hermione did not see because she'd already returned to her book.

Draco decided in the next instant that he'd rather not spend any more time than necessary in the same quarters as Hermione, and left the common room rather than retreat to his room. It wouldn't do any good to try doing his assignments when all he really wanted was to take one of her books and hit her with it. Repeatedly.

The portrait slammed closed behind him and he made his way through the dark halls of Hogwarts, his one and only destination Slytherin. It's not as if he'd even think of going to another house; Slytherin was the only house with girls that had sense enough not to bother him. It was likely that none of the seventh years had retreated to sleep yet and that he could have at least one decent conversation before he was forced to return to the company of Granger.

"Oh, but what if I got Potter?!" Pansy was asking, a horrified look on her face as Draco entered through the portrait; none of them had noticed him yet. "If I get Potter, I'll die!"

Daphne Greengrass, a usually quiet girl with dark skin, long hair and bright eyes, sighed as she reclined in her seat, legs crossed. "Oh, please. The worst Gryffindor by far has to be a close tie between Longbottom and Weasley."

"Don't tell me you're all talking about it as if you can do anything." Draco said, almost rolling his eyes as he took a seat in the common room.

Pansy's eyes lit up as they landed on him – he figured she thought he had some inside knowledge into who had who. And he didn't. He didn't even know who his _own_ date was, much less Pansy's. "Well, I don't look forward to a ball if I have to spend it with anyone but a Slytherin. Gryffindors are stupid, Ravenclaws are boring, and Hufflepuffs don't even rate attention."

Blaise rolled his eyes this time, and Draco had the feeling that everyone had been forced to listen to Pansy since dinner ended. "Moving on to better topics…who do you think will get stuck with Granger? I feel sorry for him already."

"She'll probably want to talk about the minor errors in _Hogwarts: A History_." Pansy snorted.

"How do you know there are minor errors in _Hogwarts: A History_?" Draco asked. Pansy stopped laughing.

"You didn't answer the question, Draco." Blaise said a moment later.

Draco then noticed everyone was looking at him. He narrowed his eyes, looking at each of them in turn. "What?"

It only took him another moment to realize _why_ they were all looking at him as if they may feel pity for him. "You think I've got Granger? The sorting hat can't be that stupid to let that happen."

Pansy raised an eyebrow. "A date with a mudblood. Lucky you."

"Granger is _not_ my date."

"Right. And you know for sure because, why? You didn't even know there was a ball until dinner." Millicent said dubiously.

"I just am."

There was almost a tense silence, but Pansy broke it before it had the time to properly settle. "I've got Potter. I can feel it in my bones. I've got Potter."

Almost everyone heaved a simultaneous sigh and Draco none too nicely said to Pansy, "shut up."

She glared at him. "And who are you to tell me to shut up? You're just mad that everyone thinks you got Granger."

"_I don't have her_. So there's nothing for me to be mad at."

"We'll find out tomorrow, won't we?" Nott asked, speaking up for the first time in the entire conversation. He couldn't be bothered to care who his date was; just because he had to come to the ball with that person, didn't mean he had to spend the entire night with them; he'd learned that three years ago (of course it had been the other way around and Daphne had abandoned him to spend the end of the night with Anthony Goldstein, but he wasn't bitter about that at all – really).

None of the other Slytherins answered, thankfully, and blissful silence descended on the group.

-

Hermione didn't sleep very well that night. Mainly because her mind was completely occupied by the scary thought that Draco Malfoy would be her date to the ball. She hadn't even had the presence of mind to disturb his beauty sleep – and that was rare in itself.

By the time she had gotten out of bed, she was paranoid and almost definitely sure that Malfoy was indeed her date to the ball to be held in a few weeks, and that she would be tortured by his presence.

Ron only gave her a look when she arrived (late) to the Gryffindor table, and said, none too gently, "You look awful."

She gave him a look, sincerely hoping it contained all her distaste (because the fact that she even thought Malfoy had a chance of being her date was his fault). "Thank you, Ron. Really."

"I just…so, er, you didn't get any sleep last night either?" Ron asked.

Before Hermione could answer, the flurry of owls arrived and she watched as every person in the great hall straightened, afraid of who they'd get as a date. Hermione could almost feel the tension.

An owl landed before her on the table and she stared at it for a brief moment before she tentatively reached for the letter. Around her, the other Gryffindors opened their own letters with much trepidation. Well-deserved trepidation, in Hermione's opinion.

"Bloody hell." Ron muttered under his breath, sounding every bit as if his life had just ended. "I got Pansy Parkinson of all the girls in the entire school – "

"Ronald Weasley?!" A voice suddenly screeched from the Slytherin table; it was undoubtedly, unmistakably, Pansy Parkinson. And she did not sound happy. In fact, she sounded downright scandalized. "Of every boy, why must I be stuck with _him_?!"

"At least it wasn't Potter." Tracey said and she and Daphne burst into a fit of giggles at that; Pansy glared at them and they shut up abruptly, deciding it was better to not incur her wrath.

"Luna…Lovegood." Harry said to himself. He blinked at the sheet of parchment uncontrollably, almost as if he was attempting to will the letters to rearrange themselves into any other name in the world. Any other name in the _universe_. "_Luna Lovegood_."

"Harry," Luna called from her lonely seat at the Ravenclaw table. "I look forward to our night – perhaps afterwards we can go off in search of the elusive teedle tweedles? I've heard that it's their season."

Harry stared at the blonde-haired, blue-eyed Ravenclaw, jaw slack – and then he very resolutely banged his head on the table. Incessantly – that is, until Hermione thought it would be better to stop him. However, she supposed he'd rather be in a coma than at a ball with Luna as his date. Hermione almost felt bad for him, but, then again, she was currently contemplating the odds of her having Draco as a girl had yet to jump up and down screaming his name with glee.

"Hermione, aren't you going to open yours?" Ginny asked, an easy smile on her face. Hermione already knew the girl had Michael Corner – were they going out _again_?

Hermione shrugged her shoulders back and unfolded her letter carefully. She eased it out, her eyes quickly scanning the name. The letter fluttered from her fingers and Hermione almost fell out of her seat.

They wouldn't – they couldn't have – how could they just – Draco Malfoy? How could they give her _Draco Malfoy_?

-

"Padma Patil." Blaise said, a curious tone in his voice and an eyebrow raised. He folded the parchment and looked over to the Ravenclaw table; Padma grinned widely at him with a tiny wave and a wink. Blaise then decided that he'd be having a good time on the night of the ball, if no one else did.

Draco rolled his eyes, fingering his letter absently as Pansy (temporarily over the embarrassment of having Weasley for her date in the light of another's suffering) said, "Oh, look, Granger just had a panic attack."

"Hmm." Draco toyed with his letter a bit more before figuring he should just get it over with. He ignored the noisy and mostly disappointed voices in the great hall, concentrating on opening his envelope and slowly sliding the contents out with a large hope that it be any name but Hermione Granger on the parchment.

Tough luck for him. The Head Girl's name was written across the page in neatly flowing script, and Draco realized that he really was stuck with Granger at the ball.

"There is _no_ way I'll stand for this." Draco said furiously, throwing the parchment onto the table and stalking out of the great hall without a backwards glance.

Pansy reached for the letter and almost laughed as she read the contents. Instead, she decided to spread the embarrassment and misery of this morning and yelled across the din of the great hall, "Hey, Granger! Don't do anything I wouldn't do with Draco!"

As predictable, the students all forgot about their own predicaments, instead focusing on someone else's and swiveling to stare at their Head Girl. Hermione threw a hateful glare in Pansy's direction before she herself beat a hasty retreat from the room.

Pansy grinned as Tracey complimented her on how evil she was. Pansy only said, "I like to spread the misery – I'm a giver."

-

Hermione didn't dare go back to her common room. She couldn't. Not only was there a chance that she'd run into Draco, but she'd be reminded just by being there that she was forced to attend her last event ever at Hogwarts with Draco Malfoy. She decided to spend the rest of her Saturday morning sulking around Gryffindor with her other unhappy housemates. It was a very rainy day, metaphorically speaking, for Hogwarts today.

Lavender herself sat dejectedly on the base of the stairs that lead up to the girl's dorms. She held her head in her hands, and her voice was muffled. "I knew I needed a dress robe this year – because it was on the list – but I did not think it would be to spend three hours, _undoubtedly never leaving the food table_, with Vincent Crabbe."

Hermione would gladly switch partners with the girl if it was possible (because anyone had to be better than Draco), but after seeing the repercussions of crossing the age line in fourth year, she didn't want to see those of attempting to switch partners for this ball.

Of course, however, despite all her lectures on that fact, Ron was currently in a corner, attempting to coax Dean into giving up Susan Bones for Pansy. Why he would do that for Ron, Hermione had no clue. Sure, Pansy was nice-looking, pretty in her own, stuck up, pureblood supremist way, but at least Susan Bones had less chance of being involved with Death Eaters.

She rolled her eyes as the Muggleborn boy finally relented and handed over his parchment with the Hufflepuff's name before taking the one with Pansy's.

Ron grinned in triumph and Hermione waited patiently for the backlash as the redhead moved to rejoin her and Harry. Sure enough, he paused mid-step, before doubling over and running from the common room as quickly as possible, barely giving the fat lady enough time to open the door for him.

"I told him." Hermione said smugly. She looked at Harry. "Didn't I tell him?"

"Hermione, I'm mourning right now." Harry said sullenly, slouched low on the couch.

"Mourning? Mourning what?"

"My sanity. There won't be any of it left after three hours with Luna."

-

Draco hadn't tried to return to the Head common room either (he had a feeling that if he was forced to face Granger right now, he'd say something that he wouldn't regret later, but that would come back to bite him in the arse – hard); instead he'd moped around Slytherin with the other seventh years.

About a half-hour previously, he'd watched Pansy fly out the door with Blaise and Tracey in tow, searching for Susan Bones to trade dates with; after all, Pansy had said, Dean Thomas would be infinitely better than Ron Weasley – and, of course Draco agreed (of course, she'd also said that she'd rather have Longbottom over Weasley – Draco decided he draw the line there).

He did wonder how it had worked out for her – Daphne had floated by fifteen minutes ago to talk about Anthony Goldstein, and, not too surprisingly, didn't hold his attention for long. Draco needed something exciting, maybe even a little embarrassing, and if it involved Pansy and an antic, he was sure it would be entertaining – for him.

As if by his will alone, the door to Slytherin swung open. Tracey and Blaise appeared, guiding a horrified and traumatized-looking Pansy inside. Her eyes were wide and blank, and she seemed to have forgotten how to walk on her own.

Draco raised an eyebrow at her. _This ought to be good_, he thought to himself. Pansy lowered herself onto to couch beside him gently as Tracey found a seat haphazardly in an armchair and Blaise sat in the other.

"What happened to you?"

As if she was suddenly remembering her ordeal, Pansy turned to look at Draco and said desperately, "Kill me."

"_What_?"

"Get your wand out and kill me – I'll even write a letter beforehand that I said it was all right. Promise!" Pansy said earnestly.

Tracey just managed not to roll her eyes. It was a hard battle after hearing the woes of Pansy for nearly twenty-four hours. "Weasley kissed Pansy."

"Egh, don't remind me!" Pansy moaned, slouching in her seat.

"You should have seen it, Draco. It was so slow, so dramatic…so full of passion. For the few seconds after they parted before Pansy punched him of course, you would have almost thought they'd meant it." Blaise added, a smirk on his face.

"We did not." Pansy mumbled half-heartedly.

"Did too." Blaise countered.

"Blaise and I think the hex on the partners is to make them kiss." Tracey said. "So, unless you're actually looking forward to snogging Granger, I'd let it lie, Draco."

Draco didn't answer, only settling into a dark glower. Pansy slouched further in her seat.

"He kissed me! I'm ruined, completely scarred for life."

"Pansy – " Draco started no avail.

"If he kisses me again, I swear on Merlin's beard I'll knee him." Pansy continued despite Draco's efforts, her tone darkening considerably.

Blaise shifted in his seat uncomfortably, and Draco decided that maybe it was time to return to his common room.

Hermione and Harry were still, embarrassingly, reclining and pretty much hogging the Gryffindor couch when Ron returned fifteen minutes after he left, still looking as if he may actually up heave in the middle of the common room. Hermione watched, eyebrow raised as he collapsed onto the floor in front of herself and Harry and said, much more dramatically than was needed, "Kill me."

"What?" Harry asked in disbelief, looking at Ron as if the redhead had some kind of contagious disease he didn't want. What could have happened in the span of time in which Ron left and returned that would have him begging for death?

"Just kill me, _please_." Ron nearly begged.

Hermione realized that it had to be a bad result of trying to trade partners. It had to be for Ron to react so badly. A slow smile crossed her face. "What did you do?"

Dean and Lavender moved closer to the trio, intent on hearing about Ron's obviously embarrassing encounter. Ron only put his arm over his eyes and moaned. "Hermione, I'm dying. How can you make fun of a dying man?"

"All I did was ask a simple question." Hermione said, but the smile never left her face.

"Ikissedpansy." Ron mumbled through his arm and the four stared at him in expectation of him to say it again, only clearer and with the intent of actually making sure they heard him. He sighed and moved his arm from his face reluctantly. "I kissed Pansy and I'm now scarred for life."

Just as Ron should have feared, cat calls and whistles rained on him from the other Gryffindors that overheard him, and Harry grinned, completely forgetting about his own doom.

"You kissed Pansy? Pansy Parkinson?"

"It's not like I did it on purpose – it was the spell!" Ron exclaimed. "I _swear_ it was the spell!"

"I told you so." Hermione said simply.

Ron rolled his eyes in annoyance of her smug behavior, and pushed himself to his feet. "I think – " he paused as if remembering his ordeal and said, "I'm going to go lie down." He ignored the continuous noises from his fellow housemates as they continued to find amusement in his predicament, and headed for the stairs to the boys' dormitory.

"Hey, Ron!" Seamus yelled before the redhead could disappear up the stairs.

Ron turned around, not expecting anything good to come from this. Nothing good could come from the fact that he'd actually walked up to Pansy Parkinson and kissed her. And it was definite that nothing good could come from the fact that now all of Gryffindor knew about it. "What?"

"Did you like it?" Seamus asked, and every Gryffindor waited patiently for Ron's answer.

Not that he needed to, actually. Hermione was sure, as was everyone else, that the answer was all in the quick way Ron's face colored.

Eventually, Hermione forced herself to realize that she couldn't hide from Draco forever and left Gryffindor in favor of her own common room. She rationalized to herself that she didn't live in Gryffindor anymore and that there was no bed for her anymore, so she couldn't hide out in Gryffindor for the remainder of the term.

Draco was already there, reclining on their couch and reading a Potions textbook. "Did you hear?" he asked, detachedly.

"Hear what?" Hermione asked, though she would rather she'd just ignored him and continued to her room.

"About Weasley and Pansy." Draco answered. 

"I did, actually. He kissed her – because of trying to switch the partners. I thought he looked a little green after the fact." Hermione said, not resisting a jibe at Pansy; the dark-haired Slytherin had attempted to embarrass her this morning – and it had nearly worked.

"I'd think more black and blue than green – Pansy punched him." Draco said. "If I were you, I'd tell the Weasel to avoid her. She threatened harm to something that he would find very important."

_At least it's Granger and not Lavender Brown_, Draco thought to himself, when he remembered that he was stuck with his unwanted roommate for a date. He didn't know if he'd survive an encounter with the blonde Gryffindor. She was beautiful, yes, but she was also one of those simpering girls that never let him be.

Hermione didn't bother to ask what that would be. "I'll do that. I think." She shook her head and left him behind for her room.

Hermione liked her room. Similar to those in the girls' dorms and decked out in her prideful house colors of red and gold. Hermione didn't think it could be any better; surely it would annoy her greatly if the room happened to be in any other colors after being surrounded by red and gold for six years?

She remembered Lavender's great disappointment at realizing that she'd be wasting her dress robe on, not Zabini or Malfoy as she'd wanted, but Crabbe. Not that Hermione felt she was in any better a position. Forced to waste her night away with Malfoy, and what would that get her? She'd much rather be alone than with him.

She eyed the new dress robe she'd bought specifically for this year and sighed in resignation. In a few weeks, there would be a ball. A ball she'd be attending with Draco Malfoy. And in the best dress robe she'd ever seen. But she'd be with Malfoy.

She figured, if she really had to spend her entire night with him, that she might as well wow the jerk. Or…at least try.

**End Part One.**


	2. The Dance

**Title:** No Looking Back (II of IV)  
**Author:** Miz Thang  
**Characters/Pairing:** Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Ensemble, HG/DM, RW/PP  
**Rating:** FRM  
**Word Count:** 4790  
**Warnings:** Completely and utterly cliched. AU Year 7. Not HBP-compatible.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything but the little story's idea. Everything else belongs to who it belongs to.  
**Summary:** In Seventh Year, Head Boy and Head Girl, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger, are forced to attend a ball together in their last few days at school. What results isn't anything they'd ever expect.  
**Notes:** For the Fantastic Clichés And Why You Should Write Them Ficathon. Requirements posted at the end. Amazingly, I signed up intending to be completely and utterly serious, and what I've got is serious with a side of funny. Especially from Harry, Ron and Pansy. And not only that, but because of a massive dose of writers' block, it became a three-part fic. Written for **gleamingeyes**.

So, you may have noticed that now it lasts to four parts - at least I think it will. Thank you to everyone who reviewed Part I.

**II. The Dance**

The letters for the ball had been sent out on Saturday morning. By Saturday evening, everyone (with the story of Ron and Pansy spreading courtesy of Susan Bones and Lavender) had resigned themselves to the fact that they were stuck with their partner, just as Dumbledore had told them.

By Monday morning, Pansy was stewing in a bit of righteous anger for the next time she saw Ron. And Draco knew this for a fact. Mainly because Pansy had told him five times since he'd arrived at the table for breakfast that morning, detailing exactly what she'd tell "that Weasel" when she saw him.

The Golden Trio arrived late to breakfast; Draco figured it had something to do with two-thirds of them being lazy sods, and that he'd hogged the bathroom from Hermione for longer than was humanly necessary. He and Blaise watched Pansy's face light up when she saw Ron and Draco held high hopes for some kind of entertainment this morning.

She waited until they had sat, Ron with his back to Slytherin, before very deliberately sliding out of her seat. She paused to straighten her clothing, and a pleasant smile slid over her lips. If anything, Draco always thought that her fake, pleasant smile was worse than a sneer.

Slytherins, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs watched as she determinedly headed for the Gryffindor table, and many turned in their seats to see when Pansy came to stop behind Ron. She tapped him on the shoulder and he turned to face her, his mouth full.

His face paled at the sight of her. Nervously he swallowed the food he had in his mouth. Draco was of the opinion that it was always best to avoid being the target of anger from a girl who would actually hit you (well, except Granger) – Ron seemed to have that same idea. "What?"

"Let's get some things straight, right now, before I have to hit you – again." Pansy said, eyes narrowed. She almost smiled when he cleared his throat nervously, but just managed not to. "One – don't talk to me. I'm not interested in the Cannons, or anything else you could use for small talk. Two – don't look at me. Three – don't touch me. Four – don't dance with me. Five – if we're going to have any contact at all, I'll initiate it. Six – if you break any of these rules, I will not be held accountable for my actions. Do you understand?"

Ron nodded, maybe a bit nervously, and Hermione realized, surprised, that Ron couldn't have possibly been all that upset or disgruntled about having Pansy as his date as he'd been acting all weekend. In fact, if she actually thought about it more (which was the last thing she wanted since this involved Pansy), she'd think he felt exactly the opposite.

Pansy once again gave him her pleasant smile, replacing the dark glare she'd worn moments ago. "Good. We have an understanding then."

Pansy turned and walked back to the Slytherin table. Draco almost wanted to give her applause for that little performance. He refrained, thankfully. She sighed happily as she sat in her seat and, as if nothing had happened, said, "What do you think the odds are of us winning the House Cup this year?"

-

Days (and weeks) passed. Days in which, in an effort to "support" Dumbledore's idea, Hermione and Draco had tried something they hadn't really tried in the previous months of school – they were civil. To each other. It had been hard work for Draco, repressing the urge to call Hermione a Mudblood every time she annoyed (which, believe you me, happened every time she opened her mouth). It hadn't been a walk in the park for Hermione either. Especially when, just as Draco imagined hitting her with a large book, she did the same. Often.

But, in a show of maturity and some kind of civility, they repressed their urges and found that living was much easier if they didn't go out of their ways to cause issues. In point in fact, there were close to no issues when they didn't look for them. It had been a surprise to Hermione when she noticed, and she spent much more of her time than necessary wondering what the difference was between now and the annoying git that picked fights at the most inconvenient time (of course there wasn't much of a difference but it helped her sanity if she pretended there was).

Draco himself had found more important ways to let his frustration out. Most of them involved making first years cry, but with more malice than the usual. It wasn't the same as bothering Granger, but since they weren't being "enemies" anymore, he supposed it was all right.

So. Days (and weeks) had passed, agonizingly slow and almost making many students wish they could commit suicide, and, just a few days before they were to leave Hogwarts for the final time, Draco found himself standing just in front of the great hall, leaning against the wall, and tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for Hermione to finally deem herself ready to show her face.

"You know, for someone she despises, she's taking a long time to get ready for you," Blaise said. Padma had yet to show herself, but Blaise had let Draco in on the fact that he wanted to know what Granger was up to.

Draco, of course, was bored out of his skull. He'd been standing there for ten minutes, thinking that, as Hermione liked to be prompt – and not to mention that she'd told him before he left their common room, that she'd come at exactly the time it started. But, no, there was a distinct lack of the Head Girl so far, and the only thing this could lead to was –

There had of course been rumors floating around for the past few weeks. One of them had been that Ron Weasley and Pansy Parkinson really fancied each other and that was why they were so antagonistic about being dates. The other had been that Hermione Granger was planning on doing a better job than she'd accomplished three years ago at the Yule Ball. Draco, personally, had thought that was the peak for Granger as far as he was concerned.

And, of course, he had to be proven wrong. But this, of course, was based on the reactions of the other boys that patiently waited for their dates, not his own feelings on the matter. As far as Draco was concerned, Hermione still looked business as usual – nothing pretty about her tonight. At all. Or so he could tell himself as he turned towards the stairs, where Blaise's gaze was directed.

She stood at the top of the stairs, pausing and taking in the fact that Draco was waiting for her at the bottom and watching her, his eyes only on her. As her hair had gotten worse with age instead of better, it had taken much more work for her to pin it up, and she personally thought the pale yellow dress robe she wore suited her much better than the periwinkle one she'd worn three years ago.

So, Draco liked the way she looked tonight. There was nothing wrong with that, was there? Just because he thought she looked decent enough to spend an entire night with him did not under any circumstances mean that he liked her or anything – because he didn't. He was just, appreciating the fact that she…all right, so Hermione was pretty, fact number one tonight. The dress robe looked as if it had been made specifically for her to wear tonight, and Draco had to reevaluate his opinion that the Yule Ball had been her peak. Because it wasn't – tonight was. Definitely. He, however, drew the line at actually giving her a compliment. He wouldn't.

She started down the stairs slowly, careful of falling, because the most embarrassing thing that could happen would be to trip and fall in the middle of her entrance – especially when she'd caught and was holding Draco's attention so effectively. Not that she cared for his attention, she told herself (a lot had changed for her in the past few weeks. More than a lot even – everything had changed).

Pansy, who had just finished her own walk, glared at Ron when he failed to continue paying attention to her and his gaze strayed towards Hermione repeatedly. Angry, and maybe a bit jealous, she hit him hard in the chest.

"Ow, what the – " Before he could finish his sentence, she grabbed a hold of his wrist and dragged him into the great hall, away from Hermione to where he could pay her more attention – not that she really wanted _his_ attention, or so Pansy told herself.

"Malfoy." Hermione said, almost breathless from the attention she was receiving.

"Granger." He said in return.

Padma Patil hurried over to Blaise, tossing a compliment to Hermione, and the couple entered the great hall, leaving the Head Boy and Head Girl to stand in somewhat uncomfortable silence for a while longer (because Hermione was hoping Draco thought she was pretty to Draco without being obvious, and Draco was trying to rationalize that there was no reason for him to compliment Hermione. Because they were just being civil – and, to Draco, that didn't mean he had to compliment her).

"So…" Hermione started, taking another breath and letting it out slowly. "Should we go in?"

"That would be the plan." Draco said in response. A moment later, and only because he figured he might as well act as if he was with someone he'd want to be here with – like Pansy, he held out his arm for her to take in his. "We could at least pretend to have a good time, right?"

"We could." She took his arm and almost smiled at him. Draco decided that it didn't mean anything to him at all. Really.

-

Hermione wanted to die. It was one thing to be acknowledged with compliments and the like as she entered the great hall on Draco's arm. It was something else entirely, to have to deal with what had just been announced by Professor McGonagall. She had to dance. With Draco. In front of everyone. They wanted her to stand in the middle of the floor and move across it, with Draco. And Hermione wasn't so sure she wanted to do that. For one thing, it was in front of everyone. For another, it was _with Draco_.

Draco didn't look as if he was that excited to dance with her either. But still, as everyone was watching and waiting for the Head Boy and Head Girl to have the first dance along with the prefects, he held out a hand to her, a question in his grey eyes and his eyebrow raised.

A corner of her mouth lifted and she took his hand, accepting it with only a bit of reluctance.

Her heart was pounding as they walked towards the center of the room. She noticed, a bit unconcerned but just because she saw it, as Pansy let Ron take hold of her hand and guide her onto the floor.

She and Draco stood before one another, their eyes locked and she wondered if he was as nervous about dancing as she was, because she was – nervous, that is. She didn't know or understand why she was nervous, but she was.

The music started and Draco took a hold of her hand and her waist. And then, they were dancing, moving about the room, and spinning in circles. She almost felt dizzy from it all. But there was this airiness to it, and she almost felt as if they were floating on air, gliding.

She looked up at Draco, and, somewhat companionably, said, "This is surreal, isn't it?"

He almost smiled, she could tell, but he didn't. "Very."

It was all the conversation she needed, her gaze straying to their joined hands. She smiled as she saw the room in a blur, not for any real reason other than because she could. She had a feeling something had just changed phenomenally.

-

Padma and Parvati Patil stood along the sidelines with their dates of Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott. Almost everyone's eyes were on Draco and Hermione as they danced, seemingly lost in their own little world as they spun around. It was almost disconcerting not to see them bickering as they danced, instead moving in companionable silence.

Blaise saw Pansy and Ron also not looking any different from the Head Boy and Head Girl – Pansy had even gone as far as to smile at the Gryffindor when he said something. Blaise considered his rumor to be a success, and smiled to himself.

"I've never thought of it before, but Malfoy and Granger look so well together," Parvati said, and almost exactly after, Padma said, "They're in love."

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Just because they shared a dance and are making googly eyes at each other doesn't mean they're in love, Padma."

His date shook her head, ready to defend her logic. "No – I mean, I've noticed it before, but this, you take everything you've seen before, and you watch them as they are right now – and that cinches it. They're in love, but they don't know it."

Blaise looked at Padma and, upon seeing that she was completely serious, decided to take another look at the couple, only through the eyes of Padma. There was a chance she was right and that Hermione and Draco really had gone head over heels over each other without realizing it. Well – there was a very large, very hard-to-not-notice chance she was right.

So, was it just Blaise, or did anyone else feel like there might be a problem once they recognized it?

-

About an hour after the dance that left much to be desired and grappling with her confused emotions, Hermione found herself in the gardens. Distantly, she could hear the cheers of the others as Susan Imperius took the stage. She, however, couldn't find it in herself to ignore her thoughts and just enjoy the moment – and that was entirely Draco's fault because she _liked_ Susan Imperius.

When they had danced, she'd felt …different. Not in an overly bad way, but in a good way that didn't make her feel uncomfortable, or even the least bit bothered, with being in his arms. It was almost as if she'd felt complete while they had been dancing. And that scared her much more than she would like to admit, because that meant she couldn't possibly hate him as much as she'd told herself she did. And she had. She'd told herself that she hated him, and that they were only being civil for the sake of being role models. And…maybe they hadn't. Maybe, maybe she'd changed her mind about him and there was more than civility there? Maybe –

"Has anyone ever told you that you think too much, Granger?"

She started, spinning around the face the owner of the voice. She found the object of her current distress and confusion, standing little more than two feet away, his tie and the top two buttons of his dress robe undone – and why was her heart speeding just because he was standing there? Hermione knew a crush when she saw one, and she most definitely did not have one on Draco. She'd just…since the day she found out about the partnerships, she had only been trying to reduce the amount of hostility for tonight, but that didn't mean anything, did it?

"Has anyone ever told you that you don't think enough, Malfoy?" Hermione retorted, her mouth threatening to form into a smile. She repressed the effort with much difficulty, because civility was not friendship.

He didn't answer, and as she watched him, she couldn't help but to blurt out, "I know we said we'd pretend to have a good time, but did you expect to actually have one?"

He raised an eyebrow and she almost blushed. "No." he answered, seemingly able to tell that the question had made her a bit nervous. "The same could be said for Pansy and Weasley."

"What?"

"Daphne and I found them out there somewhere. Kissing." He smirked and Hermione tried to feel bad for Ron. "I think they're embarrassed."

Hermione felt a bit weird about the thought that Draco had been out on the grounds with Daphne Greengrass at night. She tried not to let it show as she asked, "What were you and, um, Greengrass doing out there, together?"

From the bemused and somewhat questioning look on his face, she knew it hadn't worked. Could she be more obvious that she was – what? What was she? Jealous? Because there was absolutely no reason for her to be jealous of Daphne for being out here in the dark with Draco. For one thing – she did not like Draco, and for another – Draco was not hers, and her name was not stamped on any part of his body. Thirdly – Draco didn't like her either.

"She was trying to find Pansy and tell her about the band. And I was looking for you."

"Really?" Hermione asked. She felt a flush of pleasure at that and decided that she was doomed. School was ending in about a week and three days, and it was likely she might never see Draco ever again, and she was starting to like him _now_, of all the times in the world? She was supremely doomed – hell-in-a-handbasket doomed. "Any specific reason?"

When Hermione looked back on this moment later (which she'd do often), she'd realize that even with the conversation in hindsight, it was much too much of a blur to see it coming. One moment, she'd been looking at Draco, waiting for his answer as to why he'd bothered looking for her, and the next moment, she was being very thoroughly kissed.

Her eyes fluttered closed, and she let the sensation of being kissed wash over her. Meanwhile, her mind was going a mile a minute, asking herself what she was doing, and very redundantly telling herself that she was kissing Draco Malfoy – the very same prat that had only stopped calling her a mudblood the day before they found out about the ball. It was a redundant statement because Hermione was very aware of that fact, and of whom she was kissing, but also aware that it didn't really factor into why she was kissing him and not pushing him away.

The kiss deepened as he took a step closer and slid one arm around her waist. Similarly, her arms found their way around his neck.

Hermione didn't want to call it perfect. She really didn't. But this night, the nearly friendly days leading up to it, how it came to be, and the fact that she was sure she didn't hate him at least, all added together – and she told herself that that was what made it perfect. It wasn't the kiss itself, but it was the circumstances surrounding the kiss that made her never want it to end.

When she was finally given the chance to breathe, she could only look up at him, a question on the tip of her tongue (because how do you go from despising someone to kissing them in the span of only an hour and a half?).

Hermione didn't realize that she might not be the only one getting confused as to where they stood with each other until he hesitantly whispered in her ear, "I didn't tell you earlier that I think you look nice tonight."

Before she could say anything, he was backing away from her and heading back towards the great hall, leaving her to stare at his retreating back with a tiny uncontrollable smile on her face.

Yes, Hermione had already realized that she was screwed, thank you very much.

-

Tonight, in Draco's opinion, would be forever known as the epitome of, not only his own insanity, but every other seventh year's. It seemed as if the picking of partners, had served more as a blind date service than anything else for most couples (with the exception of Lavender Brown – who would much rather kill herself, and Hannah Abbot – who had spent most of her night attempting to avoid Goyle). Draco had especially gotten a laugh out of seeing Luna Lovegood pull Harry along the grounds towards the edges of the forest, in search of teedle tweedles; Draco didn't think they even existed (not that he'd know for sure with Hagrid as a Care of Magical Creatures teacher).

All those weeks ago, when he received that letter that told him he'd be spending this night (to forever be known as the Leaving Ball) with Hermione Granger, he hadn't imagined it would start with him repressing the desire to compliment her, or end with actually doing so after _kissing her_ on the grounds outside the school.

She'd joined him inside once again, and he'd realized after the fifth time that she kept sneaking looks at him (which didn't make him much better as he was doing it also). This was new in a way for Draco. He and Pansy had been brief, but here had been an understanding embedded in there and they understood each other. He and Hermione, however, that was different. They had complete opposite opinions on everything, and how could he even be considering romantic notions for someone who he stood completely opposed to? Except he was. And there in lay the newness for Draco.

They didn't talk as they walked to their portrait, Draco only giving their password (slythindor) to the quiet woman in their portrait. She was a very special woman, with another portrait on the other side of the wall for emergencies. She didn't talk much, and she didn't gossip with the fat lady or her friend Violet. She liked to remain to herself, and Draco suspected that may have been the very reason Dumbledore had given her this job.

"Um," Hermione started nervously as the door swung closed behind them. "I'll take Gryffindor and Hufflepuff?"

Draco nodded in agreement and headed towards his room without a word in her direction.

"Malf – Draco?" She called out before he could disappear inside.

He stopped and turned to face her.

"Can we…can we talk, after we've made our rounds?" she asked, wringing her hands in a nervous habit she'd developed over the course of the year and watching his face for any sign of rejection.

"I don't see why not." He finally said.

She let herself breathe once he was inside his room, and turned to head towards her own.

-

Gryffindor was as accounted for as could be. Ginny was missing, and Hermione had been scarred by the sight of running into Pansy outside the seventh year boys' dorms. Hufflepuff wasn't any better, because she found Dean Thomas with Susan in the house's common room, and decided that she would give up for the night. The seventh years had obviously decided this would be their one last chance to have fun before leaving this place, and these people, behind forever, and Hermione hated how her mind strayed to Draco at that thought.

As she hurried up the stairs towards the portrait of the quiet lady, her heart beating faster in her chest and she almost started to wring her hands, because Draco was either already there, or would be arriving back soon if he'd given up like she did, and they would talk, and she'd know for sure whether there was something for her to be making anything out of, or if this was just one of those spur of the moment things, brought on by the fact that this could be their only chance.

Hermione's body slowed to a near stop as she reached the top landing, and it took a few extra seconds for her to get herself to walk towards the portrait. The quiet woman gave her a small smile that oddly reassured Hermione. "Slythindor."

The portrait swung open and Hermione stepped inside carefully, attempting to gauge if Draco had already returned or not. When no noise gave her a sign, she gave up and called out, "Draco?"

"What?"

His room. She took a deep breath and walked towards the door slowly. She paused outside of it, nervous. And then she told herself that she was being exceptionally stupid and that there was nothing wrong with her just opening the door and going inside. He'd practically invited her anyway.

She twisted the door knob, and entered the room. Draco was sitting at his desk, scribbling furiously at a sheet of parchment. "Homework?"

He looked up at her and then back at the parchment. "I was making a list – of the pros and cons. It's not helping."

"Did you really think it would?" She asked.

He stood, seeming almost angry, and sat on his bed dejectedly. She moved towards his bed and sat next to him. "This is insane, you realize."

When Hermione had realized that she'd be going to the ball with Draco, she had never imagined she'd end up sitting on his bed, about to make one of the biggest decisions of her life – a decision that had a vast chance of destroying her morals and ethics. She'd never thought she'd cared about his well being, and she really never thought she'd even hold notions of becoming romantically involved with him.

Hermione had now seen and understood that things never quite go the way you're hoping, very effectively, and she decided that now would be as good a time as any to reevaluate her life. Something had indeed changed on that dance floor earlier that night. She had changed. And maybe, hopefully, Draco had too.

"I do realize. But – I don't think I really care."

Hermione wanted a relationship. With Draco Malfoy. And not just any kind of relationship, when you consider the circumstances surrounding them. She wanted a meaningful, maybe it'll last, kind of relationship. She wanted a relationship she wouldn't have to hide, or be afraid of what anyone else thought (not that she thought there wasn't any hook up that didn't occur among the seventh years that they wouldn't be embarrassed about). She wanted to be herself, maybe even with Draco, and that was it.

"Hermione – "

"I – care. About this, and you. For many, uncontrollable, nonsensical reasons. But I do." She said. A moment passed, and in a lower voice, her eyes on his green bed sheet, she asked, "Can you understand that?"

"Our friends won't take well to the idea of us."

She looked up, her eyes meeting his. She realized that in this situation, she'd already figured out what she wanted – Draco had to figure his own out by himself. "And is there? An us, I mean? Because we didn't reach a conclusion for that as of yet. I'd remember."

He almost smiled, and waited a moment before he said, "I don't – do you want there to be?"

"Maybe." Hermione answered. "No. Yes. I don't actually know." She ignored his mutter of "for once" and looked towards his window. Moonlight filtered through the green curtain, casting an eerie green glow on the room. She turned back at him. "Is there anything that you'd let stop you – because I don't think I can do this and then turn it off later."

"I want to know whatever it is we're trying to be, Granger."

"Oh. All right. Well, that's good, I suppo – "

As far as kisses went, Hermione was sure that this one went above even the one in the courtyard, because this was more than a spur of the moment thing. She, Hermione Granger, and Draco Malfoy were going to be an item. She and Draco were – in what? In like? In very deep like? In – in love?

Hermione broke away to look at Draco in the eyes and asked, "No looking back?"

He watched her much in the same way she watched him, and she recognized, with a freeing feeling that Draco was probably fumbling along as much as she was. He didn't answer her though, and she wondered if he even really needed to. The fact that they were here, doing this – wasn't that enough?

She kissed him confidently, though nervous, as she sank deeper into uncharted territory for herself, and hopefully for Draco. She was slightly aware of the fact that she and Draco were on the verge of something they'd never be able to come back from.

She decided in the instant afterwards, that she'd deal with the future when it came.

**End Part Two.**


	3. The Revelations

**Title:** No Looking Back (III of IV)  
**Author:** Miz Thang  
**Characters/Pairing:** Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Ensemble, HG/DM, RW/PP  
**Rating:** FRM / R  
**Word Count:** 5956  
**Warnings:** Completely and utterly cliched. AU Year 7. Not HBP-compatible.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything but the little story's idea. Everything else belongs to who it belongs to.  
**Summary:** In Seventh Year, Head Boy and Head Girl, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger, are forced to attend a ball together in their last few days at school. What results isn't anything they'd ever expect.  
**Notes:** For the Fantastic Clichés And Why You Should Write Them Ficathon. Requirements posted at the end. Amazingly, I signed up intending to be completely and utterly serious, and what I've got is serious with a side of funny. Especially from Harry, Ron and Pansy. And not only that, but because of a massive dose of writers' block, it became a three-part fic. Written for **gleamingeyes**.  
**Chapter Notes:** It would be nice to pretend that they go to the ball and they're in lurve, and crap, the end, but requirements are requirements, and this story is officially, Romance/Humor/Angst. And I'm glad with that because angst is my genre.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed Part I and Part II.

**III. The Revelations**

The days after the ball were very surprising for all. Hermione was tempted to blame everyone's peculiar behavior on the N.E.W.T.s they were all faced with in these final days, but that would be a lie. The ball had changed a lot of things, especially among the seventh years. And Hermione supposed she was a prime example of change. Well, she _and_ Draco, of course.

A while after she had finished her N.E.W.T. for Potions, she'd found herself sitting by a tree out in the courtyard, watching her fellow schoolmates enjoy their last few days together in school before they were to leave. Hermione didn't want to be nostalgic, but she supposed she would miss Hogwarts. It had been a very altering part of her life, and without it, she most likely would not have met Ron, or Harry (and Draco).

After graduation, she, Ron and Harry would be adults, expected to do adult-like things, and, in the times they lived in, expected to go to war. As would Draco, she knew, and she found it weird that she hoped that something would change the obvious path for him – after a week of trying to figure out what they were, what they could be – she didn't like the thought of him dead or in Azkaban.

She supposed it was awfully foolish to let the ball take away the perspective she should have kept on what their world was _really_ like, but she did recognize that the ball may have finally given Hogwarts just what the sorting hat had been searching to get for nearly four years – some kind of unity.

"You really do think too much."

She looked up sharply to find Draco blocking her sunlight. She lifted her arm to shield her eyes and smiled at him, almost charmingly. "Should I even give that an answer, or can you already guess what it is?"

He gave her a withering look before taking a seat beside her. The both sat in silence, leaning on the tree she had found shelter under, and she watched the younger years play around. She hoped nothing happened over the summer and that they were safe at Hogwarts. They _had_ to be safe at Hogwarts.

"I'm worried." She said, smiling softly as one first year turned a flower into a butterfly. If only she could go back to when she didn't _have_ to worry about anything, that would be nice.

"About what?"

"The summer. The War. What happens _after_ the war? When we're in either utopia or hell?"

"You won't know until you get there, will you?" Draco said, almost dismissively. "Nothing's set in stone, Granger. And, unless there's a prophecy with the winner's name on it, I'm thinking that now may the time for a vacation – we _do_ have a summer house in Brazil."

Hermione frowned, because he was talking about going away and leaving England (which was bad), but it also meant not being involved in the war in any way, shape or form (which was good) and that meant – Hermione didn't want to, nor was she one to, get her hopes up, but still, this meant a lot for the future, _their_ future, so how could she not be excited?

"Why?"

He turned to look at her. "Why what?"

"Why are you going to avoid picking a side?" She asked as if it had been obvious. Maybe it was and he hadn't realized it. Though the same could probably be said about his answer. Maybe _that_ was obvious and _she_ hadn't realized it.

"Besides being in trouble if the other side wins? What if we come face to face in the middle of the war? That defeats the purpose of our little experiment if one of us dies, doesn – "

Hermione kissed him, not caring who saw, just because she could.

-

Hermione had been disturbed when she'd seen Ron and Pansy standing in the middle of the entrance hall, arguing over nothing in particular. And nothing in particular actually equated every and anything. She and Draco had finally decided that it had been enough with sitting outside, and on the way to the great hall for lunch, when they'd seen the couple yelling at each other at the top of their lungs.

That wasn't what had really disturbed her, of course. Ron and Pansy had been arguing more and more throughout the year, so that was nothing new. No. What had disturbed her was Draco saying, "Do they remind you of anyone?" before leaving her to stand and watch them for a while longer.

She'd watched Ron's face turn an impossible shade of red and Pansy clenched her fist as if she was about to hit him. And then she'd caught onto Draco's question.

Ron and Pansy were suspiciously acting out in ways she and Draco had during the course of the year. Worst, even. Much worst.

She shook her head to rid the scene from her mind and entered the great hall, immediately catching sight of Harry sitting at the Gryffindor table while staring off into space. She looked in the air for a moment to see if there was anything interesting there, because she didn't know Harry to daydream. Ever. And then she approached him cautiously once she realized that there was nothing of any real importance there and that Harry _was_ in fact daydreaming.

When he didn't notice her taking the seat across from him, she said, "Harry."

He started and finally noticed her presence. "Hermione."

"What were you staring off at?" She asked. When she didn't get an immediate answer, she continued. "Never mind. What are you doing on your free period? You and Ron could use that time to study, for once, before the Transfiguration N.E.W.T. tomorrow."

Harry shifted in his seat nervously and Hermione's eyes narrowed at her friend. "Harry, what did you do?"

"Do? I didn't _do_ anything. I just – "

"If you didn't do anything, why can't you just give me your excuse for not being able to study?"

"Ipromisedlunai'dgoteedletweedlehuntingwithher." Harry rushed to say under his breath. Hermione looked at him blankly, because he should know better than to think she'd caught a word of that, and he repeated himself. "I promised Luna I'd go teedle tweedle hunting with her."

Hermione smiled sweetly. "So, you and Luna?"

"Me and Luna? There is no _me and Luna_. All I did was agree to go looking for teedle tweedles with her." Harry protested.

"Harry," Hermione said, her voice managing to be a bit disapproving and dubious that the same time. "You and I both know teedle tweedles do not exist."

Harry smiled, if only a bit knowingly. When she thought about his facial expression later, she realized that he probably hadn't meant to be so obvious. Except he was. "But Luna doesn't."

It was official – the entire lot of seventh years had lost their minds.

-

"Everyone's saying you and Granger are dating." Pansy said as she took her seat across from Draco at dinner. There indeed had been mutterings amongst the students that the Head Boy and Girl had been seen sitting by a tree outside kissing. How Pansy had managed to pull herself away from Ron for enough time to hear any of these rumors was another manner in and of itself.

"They're also saying that you and the Weasel should just find a broom closet." Draco said nonchalantly. "Should we believe everything we hear, Pansy?"

Pansy rolled her eyes at Draco. "I thought we'd already settled that whatever I did at the ball was purely a result of someone spiking the drinks."

"Spiking the drinks, Pansy?" Blaise asked as he took a seat beside her. "That's low, even for you."

Pansy very noticeably bit her bottom lip and filled her plate moderately before she turned to Blaise and said scathingly, "Some of us, have shame, Blaise. We can't all be like you and look for the title of _that bloke that slept with every girl in our year_." Then she smiled brightly. "But, this isn't me be condescending of your life style – _not at all_. Though if you happen to catch something from one of those mudblood bitches, I wouldn't be surprised, and I _swear_ I won't say I told you so."

"And you say that as if whatever you did with Weasley is any better." Blaise said, his voice chilling to a temperature that almost matched Pansy's.

"It is. Because here in lies the difference, _Zabini_. For me, we are only talking about one person – for you, we are talking about every seventh year girl, with an exception of myself and Granger, I'm sure. As far as I'm concerned, there is nothing worst than trying to shag everything with two legs. And I am more than a little doubtful that I have ever done that. Can you say that for yourself, Blaise? Or would that make you just a bit _delusional_? Perhaps you and Loony Lovegood have something in common. Perhaps you would like to discuss teedle tweedles and zumbas with her – I'm sure she'd appreciate it. And if you think for one moment that you sleeping with fifteen girls in the past three years is in any way equivalent to the two boys I've been with, you are very sadly mistaken. Though, I'm sure you've gotten a head start on the sixth years – after all, Ginny Weasley hasn't been all that honest with Michael Corner, anyway, has she?"

She eyed her plate with distaste, practically turning her back on Blaise. "And now, I think I've lost my appetite." She stood from her seat and left the great hall, her confident walk not breaking, even when she bumped into Ron. In fact, she sneered at the redhead, most likely reminded of why she was so angry, and shoved him out of her way before leaving the room.

Draco noticed, with an odd sort of detachment, that Blaise's facial features were darkening with every moment that he had to sit and think about Pansy's words, and it didn't help that Tracey and Daphne were trying to pretend that they hadn't heard any of it all (Millicent didn't have any of that sort of etiquette, openly staring). Now, Draco wasn't one to mind his business, but Pansy and Blaise had almost always found a way to argue on this topic at least once a year for the past four, and this was no different than the previous ones. Draco had reached that point when he didn't really care anymore – that is, unless they decided on an encore on the train ride home. Then, he was going to hex someone.

Blaise stood, undoubtedly angry, and stalked out of the great hall, predictably to be in a bad mood for the rest of their N.E.W.T.s.

He wasn't surprised either, to notice Ron follow Pansy out of the room, almost like a pet and its owner, in Draco's opinion. _They really do need a broom closet so they can just get it over with_.

-

By the time Hermione was making her rounds at midnight, she'd been asked an astonishing twenty-seven times if she was dating Draco. And, because she didn't know what his own reply had been, she'd said that there was no relationship between herself and the Slytherin Head Boy. Even when one of the girls had mentioned that someone had seen her kiss him.

Of course, once the news spread about Ron and Pansy, she and Draco were virtually off the hook. Especially considering that Ron and Pansy weren't doing as well a job as she and Draco to keep anyone from putting the puzzle pieces together.

Thankfully for Hermione's sanity and already scarred innocence, no one was hiding out in houses they didn't belong in tonight, and Hermione resigned herself to head back to her common room. And to think, they were going home in two days. Two days and all this childish stuff would be behind them. Surprisingly, Hermione wasn't as ready to leave it all behind as she had been six years ago.

"I don't know why anyone believes that stupid rumor. What's so great about her anyway that they'd think Malfoy would even consider a relationship with a mudblood like her?" A voice asked in the darkness, none too quietly, and Hermione turned towards the voice, ready to deal with whoever it was that had decided to violate curfew. 

Her job as Head Girl was never done, was it?

"You might as well come out so I can take points, give you detention and finally return to my room for the night."

A girl with long dark red hair and chilling hazel eyes stepped out from a corner of the hallway. A blonde, and a girl with dark skin flanked both sides of her. Hermione noticed that they wore Slytherin badges, and filed that information away for later, should they escape.

"I doubt you'll be returning to your room, mudblood." The blonde sneered.

Hermione didn't really know whether she'd have seen the attack coming even if she had realized that this was a dangerous situation earlier. But it had come, and Hermione hadn't been expecting it, but she'd resolved to put up a fight for as long as possible.

-

Pansy wasn't half as angry as she had been at lunch, which was saying a lot. She'd just been in a sore spot because everyone wanted to know if she and Ron had really done something the night of the ball, and Pansy would much rather everyone stayed out her business (yes, she was a hypocrite in that way).

And not mention, she was under the impression that her shame stemmed more from the fact that she was actually considering a "real" relationship instead of that non-committal policy Blaise had (a policy that she might be just a little jealous of). And maybe that was why she snapped. Maybe it wasn't. The point was, Blaise hadn't been who she was angry at – herself, Ron, those twittering bitches that wouldn't leave her alone maybe, but not Blaise.

She groaned softly in the dark corridor, because this revelation meant she'd have to actually apologize to him tomorrow morning.

"Mudblood!"

Pansy froze in her tracks as various other insults reached her ears and turned towards the direction she could hear that voice, and the ones that followed, from. She realized that this was not very Slytherin of her to go looking for a problem instead of heading to bed, but, she figured, if a bunch of Slytherins had decided to play a game of near death with a mudblood, this was going to be either her, or Draco's, problem tomorrow morning.

"Filthy, dirty, mudblood!"

"This'll teach you – stop poisoning the only purebloods left!"

Pansy liked to think she was a person that thought before she acted. She really did. She prided herself on it in fact, as a Slytherin. She liked to think that she'd scout out the situation before reacting. No such luck tonight. She decided that she'd just blame it on some of Weasley rubbing off on her.

She pulled her wand out and stupefied three of the girls with quick succession the moment she rounded the corner, before they could realize what was happening (Pansy was not stupid; if these girls would do so far to attack another, then they wouldn't likely hesitate to hurt her either). She managed to catch another two once they realized they'd been found, but the last escaped and she committed the girl features – mainly the flaming red hair – to memory.

She took careful steps towards the victim in this entire mess, only to start at the sound of a voice.

"What the hell is this?"

Pansy, as much as she would like to not admit it, would recognize Blaise's voice anywhere. It was just a random fact that should be known by the general public, Slytherin was the best house at Hogwarts, and Pansy could recognize Blaise anywhere (because he was her best friend – not that she'd ever tell him that). She spun around to face him, and wished that they were on good terms – like before lunch. She smiled, if only a bit bitterly. It was only a reminder that places that they could call safe, weren't that much anymore. "Our younger generation. Where we thought a hex that made someone up heave toads was entertainment, they get their stimulation from trying to kill other students. How times have changed."

Blaise eyed her, and then his gaze drifted to the huddled figure on the floor. The one that was bleeding. The one that also wasn't moving. Pansy turned back to the girl, and then kneeled to reveal the person. Though the last thing she wanted to do was touch the person, she turned the person over and became very aware that what she'd simply thought was a bad situation, was now a terrible one.

Because she'd recognize that head of hair anywhere.

"Oh, fuck."

"Pansy?" She could almost feel him take a step forward.

"Blaise, please run and get Draco." Pansy said distantly, not taking her eyes off Hermione; the girl was barely breathing. "And I do mean run."

-

He'd been waiting up for her. His Potions book had extinguished its use a few days ago, and he now scanned his Transfigurations book in a last attempt to understand some of the finer points the subject before his N.E.W.T. when the usually quiet woman appeared in the portrait in the common room.

"I think you have an emergency, Mister Malfoy." She said, her voice not very much higher than a whisper.

"What kind of an emergency?" Draco asked, looking up at her with his eyes narrowed in suspicion. If it was Lavender Brown claiming she needed to show him to state of the seventh year Gryffindor girls' dorms again…

"Well – there is a boy, yelling, loudly I might add, that you get your arse outside right now."

Draco closed his textbook and reluctantly got out of his seat. The walls in the room were amazing, because Draco hadn't heard not hide nor hair of it all. The portrait swung open to reveal a very out of breath Blaise, looking as if he'd run an impossible distance. And, as Draco found out in the next few seconds, he had.

-

Pansy didn't dare touch her. She couldn't even bare to sit next to her until Blaise returned. She'd picked a far wall and sat against it, her dark eyes never leaving the beaten body of the Head Girl. There were some things that just didn't happen. Slytherins didn't date Gryffindors, and Head Girls didn't get attacked. And the first had flown out the window a long time ago.

Her lack of ease with the situation was palpable and relief, therefore, clearly showed on her face when Blaise and Draco appeared around the corner.

"Who – ?" Draco asked.

"Them." Pansy said, pointing at the stunned girls. "One got away, but I'd be able to pick her out in a crowd."

Draco nodded, never taking his eyes off Hermione. Pansy realized something as she watched him kneel beside the girl. Draco had been bluffing at lunch. Just as she'd been bluffing and maybe Ron was bluffing too. All in all, it was an amazing epiphany moment for Pansy. Well, it'd be more amazing if Hermione wasn't very much on the verge of death – because then, Pansy would be able to make the stupid idiot admit to it.

"Can you and Blaise go find her? The last girl?"

Blaise narrowed his eyes at her and Pansy looked at Draco as if he may have been insane, but seeing how this was every bit a dire situation, simultaneously, they both said, "Yes."

After they found away to carry five girls down to the dungeons so they could wake Snape at half past midnight, they left Draco to do whatever he felt was needed to help Hermione. When they rounded the corner and took the stairs that lead down to the dungeons, Pansy said, "Don't think I'll ever say this to you again."

Blaise gave her the faint traces of a smirk, and she thought it was because he knew exactly what she was going to say. "Say what?"

She rolled her eyes in annoyance. "_I'm sorry_. About earlier."

"I know." He said. "Just for the record though, about five minutes after I left the great hall, I forgave you."

It was only when they were under the deadly glare of their Head of House with five very unconscious fifth years, did it occur to Pansy that she and Blaise may have what constituted a real friendship.

Pansy almost smiled.

-

As soon as his friends had rounded the corner of the hallway, Draco had tried to concentrate on the task of healing Hermione (and make sure she didn't do anything – like die – on him).

The part where he got her back to their common room was easy; the quiet lady opened the door sans the password, smiling at him in sympathy (which he didn't actually need or want) when he looked at her in surprise.

Once he made sure that Hermione was as comfortable as possible, he set about to inspect her injuries and calculate how many spells he needed. He supposed he'd be better off if he had po –

A knock and the quiet lady's calls for him interrupted his thought and he, reluctant though he couldn't quite see why, left Hermione alone in her room, her skin deathly pale against the red sheets, to find out who had to nerve to bother him at this time of the night.

Before he could reach it, however, the door swung open and Pansy slipped inside, quickly shutting the door behind her. "It's nice to know nothing's changed about these rooms in two decades."

"Pansy," Draco started. "Why are you here?"

Pansy held up her right hand in which she held three tiny vials. "I stole these from Snape's personal supply while Blaise kept him occupied." She held them out to him. "Here."

Draco eyed the potions for a single moment before reaching forward to take them. Pansy moved them from his reach and he glared at her. "What?"

"Now, Draco, I'm sure your mum has taught you better than that." Pansy said, eyebrow raised. "Snape could have caught me, you realize."

The blond let out a heavy breath and muttered as low as possible, "Thank you, Pansy."

She smiled at him. "Was that so hard? Here."

He gave her a look as he took them, a sneer threatening to appear on his face. A moment later he gave up and rolled his eyes, instead turning his back on her to return to Hermione's room.

Pansy trailed behind him. "So, er, you care about Granger, don't you?"

"Now what makes you say that, Pansy?"

She watched as he sat on the bed and gold bed and inspected the potions' bottles. "The look you give her." Pansy said. "Sort of like the one you're giving her right now."

Draco looked at Pansy in slight annoyance, but either the brunette didn't notice or didn't care – it could also be a combination of both. "It's like, like the only two people in the world are you and her, and everything else can go to hell but it wouldn't matter. I used to think you only picked on her to get to Potter and Weasley."

"Did we change subjects – because it sounds as if you're talking about yourself." Draco replied, facing away from her once more to administer one of the potions to Hermione.

Pansy smiled a bit, though she knew he couldn't see it. "I suppose I may be." She said, watching Draco check a book, undoubtedly belonging to Hermione, to find the various spells that would heal her before Snape put Blaise's story with the missing potions and came storming upon them as if he was a bat out of hell. "Weasley – sometimes I'm delusional enough to think he looks at me that way."

"There's the chip on your shoulder then. Biting into Blaise like you did at lunch." Draco said, if only a bit distracted. "You and the Weasel may be serious."

"There's a possibility." Pansy said. "And that thought scares me, because Ronald Weasley and Pansy Parkinson? Not only will I get the lecture on what it means to find a husband of _suitable_ wealth, I'll get the lecture on what is means to pick a blood traitor over your family, _and_ on how idiotic listening to your heart is."

"It is."

"Hmmm…and I suppose you're thinking logically, aren't you?" Pansy asked, crossing her arms over her chest and knowing that she'd hit a nerve when Draco's back stiffened. "Because, the last time I checked, If any of us were thinking logically, Granger would be dead, Draco. And, let's get one other thing straight, I'm not Blaise, or Daphne, or Tracey, or Millicent, or Vincent, or Gregory, or Theodore, nor am I comparable to any of them. I'm not stupid, and I'd greatly appreciate it if you didn't pretend I am. It's slightly condescending."

Draco turned back to face Pansy. "Pansy – "

"Something else to think about; if I was as in the dark as our other dear friends, I wouldn't have sent Blaise to find you of all people – especially when I could have called our dear Head of House or Madame Pomfrey like we're supposed to."

"Thank you, Pansy, for reminding me why I talk to you as little as possible."

"And thank _you_, Draco, for reminding me why we barely lasted three months into fifth year."

"Bitch."

"Thankless git." The corners of her mouth lifted into a slight smile and Draco decided it'd be best to ignore her before he did something his mother always said doing would have great consequences (hexing a girl – according to his mother, it hadn't had such great results for his father).

She watched him as he returned to healing Hermione, and thought, maybe foolishly, on where she could work after Hogwarts. She did always want to be an Auror, and, as she proved an hour ago, she wasn't bad with the wand work, or the instincts. Well, it was possible, wasn't it?

"Draco, have you ever considered…being a healer? Or maybe there's some politically correct phrase you'd prefer I use?"

"Pansy, do you think it's ever crossed my mind?" Draco retorted.

"Anything's possible, Malfoy." She paused. "I should get back to Slytherin. There's a girl for me to identify."

Draco didn't answer, instead listening to Pansy's soft footsteps that stopped halfway out the door way. "Oh, and I do believe that Granger just may be what you need in your life, Draco; Merlin knows you were incorrigible before her."

"Pansy – go fall on a wand."

Her laughter drifted to him as the portrait closed behind her and Draco focused on Hermione, settling on the edge of her bed to wait for her to wake up and rejoin the land of the living. That way he could call her stupid for one – letting six fifth years get the better of her, and two – for making him worry about her.

-

When Hermione woke up, she felt as if she'd been trampled over by a hippogriff. A very large hippogriff. And, evidently, he'd stood on her head for longer than was necessary.

"Draco?" she called out, pushing herself up onto her elbows and blinking against the darkness of the room, even though the action made her a bit dizzy. She noticed that it was still dark outside and decided this was one of those long nights – and they had a N.E.W.T. tomorrow afternoon. "How did you – ?"

"Pansy." Draco answered. A moment passed before he said, "I was almost worried about you."

Hermione smiled gently and figured it was a step in the right direction. "Well, that's good to know, I supp – "

Hermione had never been as off-balanced as she was when Draco suddenly kissed her. Not that she was one to complain – there was something to be said about the swirling feeling in the pit of her stomach when Draco kissed her. Mainly, that there was nothing to complain about except for the fact that it would have to eventually end.

She gently pulled away to look at him, but she didn't move too far. She figured she was close enough that if he felt so inclined to take a breath, she'd feel it. And she didn't mind that one bit. "What was that for?"

"I don't know." He replied.

"Oh." She leaned forward to join their lips once more – relieved, maybe, that the attack from earlier that night was not going to dampen their relationship – if that was what it was. When you weren't sure whether or not you could handle all that dating someone would entail, you didn't deeply kiss them or –

Somehow, it was a blur to her as to exactly when they had landed in the position that left her above him, her arms locked around his neck and his about her waist. She noted their position as if only idly aware of it and only noting that it was a fact. She was aware that she'd be more concerned of it, however, if it wasn't for the fact that she was curious as to where this would lead.

"Pansy seems to think you're good for me." Draco said, his lips moving against hers.

"Does she? I always knew she was smart – underneath everything." 

Draco did not answer however, and Hermione smiled into the kiss as he reversed their positions and his mouth trailed to the edge of her own, then her left cheek, and her jaw line as his nimble fingers undid the buttons of her dress shirt and it was pulled from how it had been neatly tucked into her skirt.

Hermione was slightly aware that everything – mainly the transition of this relationship – was happening quickly, maybe even _too_ quickly, but she wanted to see where this could lead with Draco, what the outcome could be. And, somehow, the quickness of it all seemed to make sense, because she wanted this and because with the times they lived in – evidence provided by the five stupid little girls that had inserted themselves into something larger than themselves – she didn't really know when her last moment was. So, was it really all that "not her" if she wanted to be in the here and now?

It was possible, yes, that Draco did not have the same intentions for this relationship as she did. Hermione was not naïve enough to assume he would. But Hermione had decided that she would rather act now and think on the damage she had done later, where she could decide properly on how to fix everything and she wouldn't be distracted by Draco's hands on her bare skin.

"I had," She took a deep breath in as he undid her bra. "I had plans for this year."

Through her hazy vision, deeply obscured by the lust now racing through her system (and, yes, maybe now she understood why Lavender and other girls always acted like a pack of bitches in heat around Draco and Zabini because, believe her, she didn't understand the infatuation before), she noticed Draco toss her bra onto the floor at the side of the bed. Just as her brain was coming to grips with the fact that she was now topless on her bed before Draco Malfoy, he was kissing her skin again, between her breasts, and her navel.

"Did you?" he asked, and she nodded dumbly as he started to undo the fastenings on her skirt. 

And then she realized that he didn't know he answer because he couldn't see her nod (which had been a foolish thing for her to do to begin with) and said, "Yes. Yes, I did. I was…" she trailed off, the most functional part of her brain zeroing in on the fact that he'd just kissed her hip, and now her thigh, her _inner _thigh…

"_You were_…" he paused to look up at her.

In hopes that maybe if she kept talking, he'd get back to kissing her, she said, "I was going to pay absolute attention in class…and not…and not be dis...tracted. Not even by you."

And then she'd caught on to the fact that he was now kissing the far inner part of her thigh. Which meant that she barely heard his next question, and had to concentrate. "What?"

He was smirking at her. _Bastard_. "I said – were you?"

"Oh." She tracked his hands as they ran over her body, from her thighs, all the way to her hips, and her eyes fell shut when they came at rest to her breasts. "Yes. I was. And, I was going to stay away from you. I was…oh my…I was…"

His mouth…was on her breast. And, if she'd had known he could do that and make it feel so good, she'd have put in a request for a ball all the way in September.

She moaned, a slight grin on her face at the thought. "What was I saying?"

"Something about staying to yourself."

"Yes. I was going to stay to myself, away from you." She pulled on his shirt collar to indicate that he come back to her and they kissed, somehow managing within it for Draco to end up on his back with Hermione straddling his hips. "You ruined my post-Hogwarts plans, I'll have you know."

He only raised an eyebrow at her as she undid his tie and tossed it to the floor, where it landed on her clothing. "And, how exactly did I accomplish that, Granger?"

She undid the buttons of the shirt as if they were just another set of obstacles to a goal – _a very good one_, a part of her mind said as she ran her hands over his exposed skin. "Well, I fell for you. In case you have yet to notice."

"I've noticed." He replied.

She nodded, reaching to undo the zipper of his trousers. "And a stupid idea, that was. You are incorrigible, and I'm sure still extremely supremacist – only you've considered me to be an exception – "

"Incorrigible?" Draco asked, as she hurried to get his pants off, with his help. It was the second time he'd been called that in a number of hours. "I think I'm more charming than anything else."

"Of course you do. That's part of what makes you incorrigible." Hermione said, the tiniest smile on her face as Draco pulled her closer to him. "Or, maybe," she whispered, her lips less than an inch from his, "it's the good looks – I couldn't have fallen for your brain power."

"You wound me with your insults." Draco replied sarcastically.

Hermione barely took a minute to think about what she was seconds away from doing with Draco. For some reason, she had it set in her head that thinking would ruin it. And she wanted it to be perfect, or at least, to seem so when it finally happened.

And, it was. Well, she'd say it was perfect, but she'd already decided that there would be an instance in which herself, Draco, and their intimacy would be better than this sudden calming feeling that was flooding her entire being and made her want to sigh – except, you know, she didn't. Sigh, that is.

And she decided, that this moment, the one she'd hold out for, will be when Draco admitted to himself, and even to her, that he'd fallen for her as hard as she had for him, and only then.

**End Part Three.**


	4. The Final Word

**Title:** No Looking Back (IV of IV)  
**Author:** Miz Thang  
**Characters/Pairing:** Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, HG/DM, RW/PP  
**Rating:** FRM  
**Word Count:** 5019  
**Warnings:** Completely and utterly cliched. AU Year 7. Not HPB-compatible.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything but the little story's idea. Everything else belongs to who it belongs to.  
**Summary:** In Seventh Year, Head Boy and Head Girl, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger, are forced to attend a ball together in their last few days at school. What results isn't anything they'd ever expect.  
**Notes:** For the Fantastic Clichés And Why You Should Write Them Ficathon. Requirements posted at the end. Amazingly, I signed up intending to be completely and utterly serious, and what I've got is serious with a side of funny. Especially from Harry, Ron and Pansy. And not only that, but because of a massive dose of writers' block, it became a three-part fic. Written for **gleamingeyes**.

**IV. The Final Word**

Draco woke up in a room decorated in red and gold. Which was new, because he was more than a bit sure that his room was green and silver. Because he was Slytherin and red and gold were Gryffindo…

Oh.

He rolled away from the spot where he'd been curled up with Hermione to stare at her gold ceiling. He reflected that, when his parents found out about his extra-curricular activities of the past few weeks, he'd be in for more than a stern talking-to. Draco knew his mother, and more importantly, knowing how his parents worked and would react was what bothered him the most.

He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and decided he'd very much like to be anyone else at the moment – of course only when it came to that moment where Blaise would take one look at him, and then ask, "Who'd you shag?"

At which point, Pansy would pipe in and blab on about Hermione and the looks she saw him give the Head Girl the night before – and Draco could do without all of that, thank you very much. Especially, when, knowing Blaise, and Tracey and Millicent, they would be the exceptionally nosy sort, wanting every single detail, which Draco strongly felt was none of their bloody business.

To his left, Hermione groaned softly, and rolled over, only bringing her to curl in on his side, and also brought their faces within inches of each other. She froze as their skin touched and opened one eye, smiling when she saw him. And then she seemed to think and opened both of her eyes in shock. "Oh."

She paused for a moment, before tentatively allowing a smile to cross her face. "Morning."

Draco almost smiled back, but, deciding that it would be awfully cliché, didn't. "Good morning, Hermione."

"So, er – " Hermione started, only to be cut off by the loudest person Draco knew.

"Draco! You do realize that you can't sit with her all – oh, bloody hell, I've been blinded!"

Draco figured he'd never moved faster than when he hid under Hermione's blankets after Pansy walked in on them (she was now hiding her eyes while obviously peeking through them). Amazingly, when he'd fallen asleep with Hermione last night, he really hadn't imagined this in the morning – mainly the part where his seventh year prefect best friend with a knowledge of the password and a lack of knowing what privacy meant entered Hermione's room without the decency of knocking.

"Merlin's beard! Did you two – ?"

"Pansy, get out!" Draco yelled, his face burning red in embarrassment, because if there was anything he'd ever held over Pansy in the past years of their lives it was that _she_ had never seen _him_ naked, and it was being shot to hell at the moment.

"I can't ask a simple – ?"

"Parkinson!" Hermione barked, and Draco bet she was embarrassed as he was.

"Fine, fine. I guess – I'll just see you at lunch, Draco."

Hermione's door shut and Pansy's quick footsteps could be heard as she fled from their quarters, screaming that she was scarred for life and that she would never enter another room without knocking ever again – if only to avoid the embarrassment of seeing Hermione naked.

When they both heard the portrait slam to a close, they pulled the sheets from over their heads. The first thing Hermione said was, "And you gave her the password, why?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "I didn't give it to her, Granger. Her mum told her how it worked and she put two and two together." After a moment he said, "Like I'd give Pansy a password to anywhere that would keep her out."

Hermione gave a short laugh but didn't answer and the two of them remained where they were for a pregnant pause before she said, "Well, I don't mean to be nagging, Malfoy, but what does this mean for us?" Hermione asked. "I've no doubt Parkinson is already telling everyone within a three-mile radius."

Draco turned on his side to face Hermione. "Until we know for sure, I'd rather just go with that happens next."

"And what happens nex – ?"

Draco kissed her, his hand finding its place on her bare hip, as if that was where it belonged. He pulled her closer, their bodies practically flush against each other.

Hermione figured they weren't only going to be late for breakfast, but also miss it altogether.

-

Pansy glared at the six girls that sat on the couch in Slytherin before her. "Ladies, you've broken a few rules," she started, her deadly pleasant smile on her face. "The number one rule of Slytherin – never disgrace your house. And a recently established rule – no atacks on other students. You are the most pathetic Slytherins I have ever seen. When we break the rules, we're not supposed to get caught."

The obvious ring leader, a redhead from a prominent Death Eater family that originally descended from Greece, stared Pansy straight in the eyes. Pansy then decided that she'd be happy to flip the little bitch's world upside down – just because she could.

"At the Headmaster's orders, and with the agreement of our dear Head of House – none of you will be returning to Hogwarts in September. I predict futures similar to our dear groundskeeper Hagrid, the oaf – charming, really, to not be able to use magic for the rest of your lives. It really is a pity, though – you all just took your O.W.L.s and everything. I bet you passed, too."

"You – we can't be expelled!" One girl yelled – the blonde. Pansy had a feeling, from when they'd sat in their seats not three minutes ago, that she'd be the stupid one (not because she was the blonde, of course – but it didn't help her case either).

"Yes, you can. And you are. Effective as immediately as when you get off the train tomorrow evening." Pansy said, her smile blossoming into a wider grin as the anticipated telling Draco – and even Granger – about this moment.

"My father won't have this." The redhead yelled, indignant.

"Your father can take it up with the Ministry, because our say is final. I'd think you'd have been in Azkaban already if you'd have killed our dear Head Girl." Pansy said. "I mean, of all the mudbloods in this school, you go for Granger. Why not Dean Thomas, or there's always Anthony Goldstein – but, no. Not only do you go after Draco's unadmitted girlfriend, but Harry Potter's best friend. I almost pity you when he and Ro – Weasley – find out. Are you really that imbecilic that the sorting hat pitied you – or did we suddenly switch house characteristics with the Hufflepuffs?"

Pansy paused and a half smirk slid across her face, "Or…were we thinking with those new and very hard to control hormones. I understand that you think Draco is very lovely-looking, but even if he won't admit that Granger's his girlfriend, you wouldn't have a hippogriff's chance in hell."

The redhead turned a violent shade of red (that, without Pansy needing to say it, clashed as horribly with her hair as Ginny Weasley's freckles – and, no, now was not the time to mention that she found Ron's cute), the other girls following suit and Pansy considred her work of making them uncomfortable almost over. There was only one thing left –

"Oh, and please, don't bother to leave yet. I'm sure our dear Head Boy has a few choice words for you lot."

-

Draco took a deep (not very satisfying – well, not as much as he thought it would be) breath when he entered the Slytherin common room. It wouldn't be at all exaggerating to say he could smell the girls' fear before he'd even reached the portrait, would it? He might as well had, of course, because the looks they gave him when he sauntered in more than conveyed how they felt.

Pansy grinned widely, and, for someone who didn't like Hermione, it was weird to see her so cheerful. Though, of course, it might just be the fact that she had six girls squirming in their seats, and Pansy always did like to spread the misery.

"Interesting morning?"

Of course, she'd also gotten her first and only view of him naked this morning – and that was not a scene he ever wanted to repeat again. Ever.

He rolled his eyes at her. "Shouldn't you be looking for Weasley to bare your heart to?"

She gave him a funny face and then eyed the fifth years. She straightened her robes, and said, "Yes, well, I'd love to see you in action, but Blaise and I have a bet to deliberate on – and I better find you at lunch."

Draco rolled his eyes at the brunette as she passed him to leave the common room. He turned to the girls, a patent sneer on his face, his lip curled upward in distaste as he took a seat in the armchair Pansy had vacated not too long ago.

The redhead, who he had long ago concluded to be the alpha, said darkly, "She's still a mudblood."

"And did I break your little pureblood heart, Higgins?" Draco asked coldly. "I actually thought all the Slytherin girls had more sense than the rest of the school – I suppose there always are exceptions to the rule."

The dark-skinned girl that sat to Higgins' right says, "Do you really think Voldemort, our your family, will accept this, Malfoy?"

Draco sat forward, narrowing his eyes and registering her slight flinch and that she sat back. "Right, Clark – I'm sure you were oh-so-concerned for my safety. Flattered, really."

The fifth years, except Higgins, flinched at his words, as drenched in sarcasm as they were.

"There are only three rules of Slytherin, you know. One – we don't disgrace our house. Two – we stick together. And three – we always come out on top. Amazing it is how you all managed to bugger two out of three of the rules, isn't it?"

"I – it was Higgin's idea! I don't want to be expelled!" The blonde yelled, panic in her voice. "My mother will kill me!"

"You're pathetic." Draco spat out, his face once again contorting in a way that wasn't really all that hot when is was directed at you. "Stop acting as if you were under _Imperio_ – it makes you look even dumber than I've no doubt you already are. You can't even lie your way out of a bad situation."

"It won't matter, Malfoy – the Dark Lord will win and finish the job we didn't." the redheard, Higgins, threatened.

Draco almost reached for his wand – a bit surprising, when you consider that Draco had barely given a rat's arse what happened to Granger two weeks ago. Surprising indeed.

Instead, however, Draco smiled callously, even as his insides burned in anger and he felt the urge to hex the entire lot of them. "You better hope so, Higgins. And make sure he kills me also. Because, if he doesn't, and I see you again, I just might kill you."

-

After threatening (and likely scaring) those poor fifth years for decades to come (which hadn't been too much fun when all he really wanted to do was _Crucio_ all six of them and then use _Imeperio_ to have them all jump from the Astronomy Tower one by one – and there had actually been a death threat or two), Draco had gone to lunch to meet Pansy and Blaise. He'd have gone to his common room, but he and Hermione hadn't actually had that conversation that made them "official" or not, and he'd rather avoid it for as long as possible.

Draco supposed that the flinches every time he or Pansy laughed were a bit worth it all; which really said something about his mood.

"Can you believe," Tracey was asking as Draco reached the table and took his seat between Pansy and Blaise, "tomorrow we leave this place for good? No coming back. This is it for Hogwarts."

"Anyone else thinking late night rendevouz?" Blaise asked, as only he could.

Tracey elbowed him and Pansy rolled her eyes, saying with a playful smirk that should never be confused with her deadly smile, "Were you planning to send the girls off with a goodbye present?"

Nearby, Millicent (who had no decency or knowledge of the concept of the phrase "mind your own business") spit out her pumpkin juice mid-chortle and Blaise threw a piece of bread at Pansy in some kind of retaliation.

However nothing topped Daphne's, "Why intrude on a future profession I'm sure they'll all be much acquainted with in the future?"

For all of three seconds, Draco managed to delude himself with the thought that everything after they left Hogwarts would be fine. Of course, they wouldn't be. His parents disappeared on him halfway though the year, his girl – Herm – Granger – wasn't someone they'd approve of, and he was sure that half the people that sat around him laughing were going to pick their sides in the war (and maybe even die).

However, never say Draco wasn't an expert on denial. In fact, Draco would be more than a little sure that he could even beat Potter (after all, who else could say they avoided the words that would make a relationship serious, the conversation that would right at least _that_ one thing in the world? Draco thought so).

"My mother's decided," Pansy said, "That I need a break from England, a graduation present if you will. She wants me to take a trip to France or Germany or something. I think she's just trying to keep me away, scared I'll throw myself to the lions."

"Is that a bad thing?" Daphne asked. "If my mother had the sense – even if it was the North Pole – I'd go. This sitting and waiting and worrying thing just isn't me."

"Hmmm. My mother wants to go to Australia. I'm sure a future husband is involved." Blaise added to the misery that had somehow arrived with Pansy's announcement.

"And the reast of us?" Millicent asked. "Get a nice tattoo, or find the farthest corner and hide in it until something finishes this all."

Draco decided that he'd rather pretend this conversation wasn't happening.

"Something?" Nott echoed.

"Yes, well. Either Potter or You Know Who dies, right?" Tracey asked. "Then let Potter win. E – even if that means my father's death or imprisonment. Never once in all of the Davis family's existence has a woman been forced into war – especially not an unwed one – and my father owls me today and tells me that in one week, I'll receive the dark mark and serve 'our Lord.' I already have a lord, thank you – myself. And I am _not_ going home tomorrow."

Draco didn't say anything. Not that he had to. It seemed as if the seventh year Slytheins had decided they liked life and freedom more than this cause they'd stood for all their lives, and, he supposed, in a way, he was no different. Even if his reasons were purely selfish – all of theirs were too.

That was the moment, when he realized he couldn't pretend to not hear the conversation any longer. He also realized that he was going to do something to fix it for them. Even if he didn't really care all that much.

"Goyle," Draco started and the heavy set Slytherin turned to him. The others watched him carefully, and he knew that they were waiting for him to do something, fix their situations. Fine. "I think Tracey might appreciate company wherever she decides to go tomorrow."

Tracey stared at Draco in shock, while Goyle only nodded his agreement and returned to quietly eating (and no, there was no mess or any other atrocity in Goyle's eating – he wasn't a garbage disposal).

"Draco – "

"Crabbe, I believe Daphne would also like for you to tag along." Draco said, cutting Tracey off before she could so something stupid, like thank him.

Daphne didn't say anything and only sat rigidly in her seat as she realized what Draco was planning. What he was doing.

Blaise realized it also around the same time. "I think I'll make a stop at the owlery. Inform my mother that Pansy and I already have plans."

Before Pansy could react, he stood and left the table. It seemed as if it took her a few moments to think before she ran after him. It ruined their reputations a bit when she practically tackled him into a hug just before he was outside the doors.

"Nott – "

"Wherever Millicent wants to go." He cut Draco off with a slight nod and Draco returned it in satisfaction.

"What about you, Draco?" Millicent asked curiously.

"I've got no reason to hide, Bulstrode. Why bother?"

There was nothing left to be said after that. Rule number one of Slytherin – stick together.

-

Draco had been avoiding her. Which would have been all well and good if not for the fact that they'd had sex – last night, and this morning.

Yes, she'd caught wind that the seventh year Slytherins had some kind of serious discussion – and everyone had seen Pansy hug Blaise and kiss him on the lips chastely, and the fact that Tracey had excused herself soon after the Potions N.E.W.T. to return to her common room was a bit alarming…

But – as Draco was avoiding her, she had no idea what was going on.

Harry and Ron had, of course, found out about the six girls and their decision to attack her the night before. She thought Ron had grinned a bit proudly when she relayed that Pansy had stunned five of the girls and identified the last.

They really were worst than herself and Draco had ever been – hot one moment, extremely cold the next and likely overall confused about it all.

Even so, it was still a bit amazing that she could live with someone and not see them for a full twenty-four hours. At which point, she had to conclude that any relationship between herself and Draco would a be a mistake. After all, she had to concentrate on the upcoming war and helping Harry. She could worry and woe-is-me over her love life later.

She wasted no time in packing her trunk, deciding that she didn't need to stay in her room any longer than neccessary (because she was seeing Draco's hands and lips, and seeing her own hands and lips and why wasn't he talking to her?) – and she supposed that the red and gold magically fading to blue and bronze was a clue as to just how done she really was at Hogwarts.

She smiled, if only a bit melancholy, and lugged her trunk out to the common room. She smiled at the quiet lady and said, "Thank you for everything."

The quiet lady smiled, a bit of a twinkle in her eye. "Oh, dear, you two provided me with more entertainment than I've had since Lily Evans and James Potter."

Hermione raised her eyebrows and the portrait swung open. She grabbed the handle of her trunk, dragging it through the door. The portrait closed behnid her, but Hermione still caught a glimpse of the common rooms' colors of blue, bronze, red and yellow.

"You know, Ron stood in the common room for ten minutes, but I think he was remembering the night of the ball more than anything else." Harry said from behind her.

She spun to face him, a smile on her face. "I'm sure he did – I never told you that I saw her on her way to the boys' bath, did I?"

Ron's face reddened in embarrassment. "Can't you ever let something go? Parkinson and I made a mistake – nothing else."

"Well, I might know exactly how you feel." Hermione said, finally giving in to using a spell and magically lifting her trunk in the air.

"Hermione, I don't want to know anything about you and Malfoy." Ron replied.

"And I second that." Harry added.

"I didn't want to see Parkinson scurrying through the boys' halls in one of your jumpers – but I did." Hermione retorted. "You don't always get what you want."

_Sometimes_, Hermione thought her herself,_ you get what you need and wish you'd gotten what you wanted_.

Ron rolled his eyes at her as she trotted down the stairs to the entrance hall. "Yeah – I still don't care to hear about Malfoy, Hermione."

"Fine."

They passed him on their way down – Pansy and Goyle were at his heels and he acted as if she wasn't standing there, not that Ron got any better a reaction from Pansy (somehow, though, both Gryffindors missed it when the two Slytherins turned to watch them leave and had to be hurried along by Goyle).

Yes, Hermione decided, everything since she'd received that stupid slip of paper had been a mistake.

-

The Slytherins had spilt up halfway through the train ride. Goyle and Tracey had left together, Daphne with Crabbe, Millicent with Nott, and Pansy and Blaise together. Draco therefore sat alone in a compartment – their usual. They'd figured they could make a clean break if they weren't together, just to be careful. And Draco was left alone to remember that time nearly eight years ago when the only thing they'd angsted about was whether the stupid hat would put them in Slytherin, and how much hell they'd give Potter for insulting Draco.

The downside had to be that Crabbe and Goyle weren't there to finish off the tradition of carrying his trunk for him, but (after the selfishness of the thought had been minimized a bit) he figured that watching out for the girls were more important.

As he stepped off the Hogwarts Express for the last time, he was surprised to find that his aunt, who he hadn't seen in seven years, standing alone and nervously, seeming to be waiting for him. In fact, she waved a bit when he spotted her.

He made his way to her, noting that she looked a bit tired. He figured that her sister disappearing off the face of the earth with her husband and leaving their son to wonder and worry also affected her. It was almost nice to know she cared that much. Almost. Even though he had better things to be doing, and more important conversations to look forward to – and, yes, he was being a bit of an arse, but did he really care?

…should that question even be answered?

"Aunt Andromeda." Draco greeted, pleasantly.

The middle-aged woman smiled a bit, still nervous despite the greeting. "Draco. I – well, we both know about your parents. It's no secret, afterall. You may not know, however, that they closed off the Manor last night." She took a deep breath. "Long story short, I'm asking for you to be a guest at my home until they unfreeze your assets."

"I – " Draco tried to think of something to say, but couldn't find it in him. He didn't mention it to the others all year, deciding that he'd think of something, but this…

He settled for nodding in acceptance, and received a wide smile in return.

-

Pansy stepped off the train, lugging her trunk off behind her. Blaise followed and they both paused to stand and watch the students mill about and say goodbyes – for some, their last.

Almost immediately, as if she had a radar designed specifically for him, she caught sight of a head of red hair among the crowd. She dropped her trunk and moved without a second thought, pushing anyone that happened to be in her way.

There were no consequences, no reprecussions, no worries. For once since this whole mess started, Pansy just was. And this blank her wanted Ron Weasley. Right now.

He looked at her in surprise when she appeared in front of him. "Pansy."

"Ron." She said, a smile threatening to form on her face. She managed to avoid it but couldn't take her eyes off him. She really just wanted to bask…and she almost stumbled because this felt like –

He looked at her in suspicion. "What do you wa – "

Pansy kissed him. Hard, passionate. Her hands on his jaw as he gave in to it and wrapped his arms around her waist.

Harry and Hermione eyed each other as cat calls and whistles echoed in the station as the couple continued to kiss (Ginny stood by her mother, making faces and Molly watched with a smile on her face and a hand over her heart). Not that Pansy or Ron noticed as the two decided to leave them to their…whatever it was they were doing.

Okay, now Pansy knew – Merlin did she _know_ – Ron Wesley was no rich pureblood, and her mother would call her a blood traitor for whatever it was she was doing, but Pansy found that she didn't care as much as she thought she did. She and Ron, there was obviously something there, and she wanted to see what else.

"You." Pansy whispered, feeling unbelievably sappy with every moment. Against his lips, she said. "I think I might actually want you."

She felt Ron smile against her lips. "Everyone's cheering."

"I noticed." She pulled back and stepped away from him. "I'm not staying in England."

He frowned. "Where are you going?"

"France, Germany – maybe Italy. It's going to be me and Blaise."

"Oh." Ron said. "That's – "

Pansy rolled her eyes. "You are such a nitwit, Weasley. Send me an owl when Potter wins, all right?"

It took Ron a moment, but once he caught onto the implications of that question, he grinned (Pansy was a bit sickened by the fact that she thought it was cute, and by the fact that she was grinning as goofily at him as he was at her) and pulled her back to him.

-

So, Hermione was in a moderately bad mood as Ron and Pansy kissed in the center of Platform Nine-and-Three-Fourths, looking to be on a task to never stop – though it did when Blaise reminded Pansy that they had somewhere to go.

They passed a few Ravenclaws, and one blonde in particular turned and waved a bit shyly at Harry. Harry waved back as they passed, even blushing a bit and Hermione repressed the urge to roll her eyes.

"Harry, just go and kiss her or something already."

"What?" Harry turned to her.

"Luna. You fancy her, and she feels the same way. Just get it over with already." And, no, Hermione was _not_ jealous, thank you. She was just stating the bare facts. There was no jealousy in it. Really.

"Thanks, 'Mione." She nodded and waved him off.

Hermione watched him nervously make his way to Luna and saw her smile at something he said. Her gaze then drifted to Pansy looking back every five seconds at Ron with the goofiest smile on her face as she and Blaise left. She almost tripped over a trunk and whalloped the third year whose "fault" it had been before stalking off, good mood ruined.

A pity, Hermione thought, because she'd wanted to open up a betting pool on how long that could last.

"You really do think too much."

Hermione spun around at the comment to face Draco, surprise evident on her face. "And you're the polar opposite, aren't you, Draco?"

He almost smiled at the response, but didn't. He stared at a spot over her shoulder and asked. "Do you remember what you said?" He took a step forward that Hermione baredly noticed as she stared at him questioningly. Where could Draco possibly be going with that? She's said a lot of things this year – and before.

A frown marring her face, she asked, "What I – ?"

"No looking back." Draco cut her off. He took another step towards her. "That's what you said that night, isn't it?"

The night of the ball, Hermione realized.

"Yes. But – "

"When you asked, I didn't answer." He slowly brought his gaze down to her, and she looked up into gray eyes, her own narrowed and scrutinizing, as he moved even further into her personal space. "I couldn't answer you before, Granger, but now I can."

A slow smile began to cross her face, and her heart was beating a million times in her chest, and she felt as if the entire station had suddenly warmed by ten degrees, but it was all in a good way, because everything that had happened since the ball was not for nothing.

"What was it I said?" She asked, pretending to be puzzled. "I think it was…no looking back?"

She didn't protest as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her flush against him, mainly because she was watching him, and because at this point she couldn't care less. There may have been people watching, and what they were doing probably constituted a spectacle, but Hermione couldn't care.

She dropped her trunk in the fast movement, and before she could realize it, he kissed her and their lips met in this sweet passionate way. Hermione decide right then and there, as her arms drifted up to find their way around his neck, that nothing else in the world mattered but what she had at that exact moment, because _this_ was perfect.

Draco, for some reason, wanted to be with her. And she, for some reason, wanted to be with him. And, if she'd been told two months ago that she'd be standing in the center of the chaos at King's Cross Station locking lips with Draco Malfoy, she'd have petioned for admittance into St. Mungo's.

When their lips parted, he didn't move away from her, and a shiver went down her spine when he whispered, "No looking back. Are you ready?" in her ear.

She decided he could have the last word this once, because she was nothing but a pile of goo on the ground.

And she had never felt so good in her life.

**The End.**

**Ficathon Requirements:**

One-Three Clichés You Would Like Your Story To Include:

1. Perfect sex/perfect first time/perfect kisses/perfect sexual instincts

2. Hermione and Draco are forced to attend a ball together and dance where everyone can see them and oh, they look so good as a couple and it's so obvious they are in love. sigh

3. Draco or Hermione is badly beaten to within a PICOMETRE of his or her life, is discovered by the other, and sweetly nursed back to health. Then they make hot monkey love.

As you can see, I had a few liberites with the third one. And, ooh, can you spot the extra ones I used?


End file.
